


Symphonious Ardour

by quillsandswords



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Romance, Sentimental
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-02 00:27:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15785214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quillsandswords/pseuds/quillsandswords
Summary: Life had a certain dullness and numbness, for Junmyeon. There was something missing in his life, something that was meant to shake and stir his entire being, from head to toe, again and again while he’d surprisingly beg for more.It, therefore, comes as a shock that he ended up in the hallway of the opera house, with his back pressing to the wall and another man pressed fully to his front, kissing him with a passion that was so clear, sweet and real, it should have been a hallucination.





	Symphonious Ardour

Life had a certain dullness and numbness, for Junmyeon. To say it was impossible to live would have been an exaggeration; but there was certainly a void in his soul. There was something missing in his life, something that was meant to shake and stir his entire being, from head to toe, again and again while he’d surprisingly beg for more. In his twenty five years of life he never managed to grasp that tiny drop of excitement he needed, not to live, but to be alive from. There were moments when he had thought he got it, but it slipped right through his fingers, in a mere second, disappearing into thin air and never seeing the light of day again; much to Junmyeon’s disappointment and desperation.

It, therefore, comes as a shock that he ended up in the hallway of the opera house, with his back pressing to the wall and another man pressed fully to his front, kissing him with a passion that was so clear, sweet and real, it should have been a hallucination. The hallway that was once crowded with well-dressed adults speaking formally to one another, was now the perfect, peaceful space for two men to let out their burning desires. The uplifting music of the ballet, that was scheduled that night, was sounding through the walls, making the two pairs of lips flow unconsciously to the rhythm. It was the perfect melody that reflected the palpitations of Junmyeon’s heart. The bright lights seemed to be stars and the chandeliers seemed to spin. Whether these were the result of his shortness of breath or his emotional high, what mattered was that he was completely enjoying it. In fact, he was in love with it. And he was in love with the man who initiated the entire whirlpool.

Yixing made an impression the moment they started talking. What started off as a friendly conversation between an editor and an author, turned out to be the spark that would eventually develop into flames of passion. Yixing had a very interesting way with words, there was a reason he was the author between the two. Even the simplest expressions were coined together so gracefully, using the velvety voice of his that made Junmyeon’s heart melt and limbs weaken. The thoughts he had were complex, deep, sometimes dark, but they were always explained in such a fascinating and engaging way, even the dumbest individual in the world could understand. He loved listening to the man’s view on the world, life, death, human psyche, society; everything. If he could listen to Yixing talk for his entire life, he would want to be immortal. There was both a spiritual and mental connection between them since their first conversation. Almost as if a destined bond was formed, coming together in a knot so tight, it could not even be ripped apart or cut in half. His mind drowned in the mental images Yixing offered him and it was the sweetest experience he could go through.

Well, that and the kiss. The two were supposed to spend an evening together, enjoying a mutual, yet quite uncommon hobby for young people like them. He knew Yixing loved that opera house. He talked about that place using a rich vocabulary, accompanied by sparkles of his eyes as he brought up old scenes of himself watching operas or ballets with his grandparents. Junmyeon’s passion for the place developed late in his teens, but his emotional connection to it was just as strong as the other man’s. If anything, it was definitely going to have a much more significant meaning after this night.

‘I’ll show you a part of my soul.’ Was what the author told him earlier that day, as he held both his hands and guided him up the stairs to the entrance. It turned out the scheduled show was a classic piece by Tchaikovsky, Swan Lake.

‘I remember it so well cause it was the first time music spoke to me.’ Yixing continued his explanation while making his way towards the booth specifically for the two of them. The both of them visited the place so frequently, they already knew the best seats and it took a very short amount of time to agree on their place for the following two and a half hours.

'Sometimes it’s fast and exciting, other times it’s depressing and then drops a sound so loud and dramatic, it sends pain in your chest. Similar to life, isn’t it? It’s not just a series of happy tunes or a series of heartbreaking melodies, it’s both. One after another. Like a roller coaster that physically takes you up and then down again, having your heart clench on both occasions; that is what Swan Lake does to you mentally. And somehow it feels so much more satisfying once it’s over, than a roller coaster ride.’

‘Tell me more.’ Was what Junmyeon replied in a faint whisper, being right behind the man, only for Yixing to turn around and face him fully in the next second.

He was not sure when exactly they stopped walking and how many steps they still had to take but he was more than glad to stop all his muscles and allow his mind to fully focus on Yixing. The other man responded to the interested gaze with a pleased, appreciative smile. He did not forget to hold the gaze as he spoke again.

‘The only other thing that can twist our souls so easily is love. It’s not surprising that love and music connect, right? Why else do we express heartbreaks and crushes through songs? There is nothing more expressive than love and nothing can express it more than music.’

He may have felt a couple of shoulders brushing against his own here and there; the two of them were rudely interrupting the audience’s walks, right in the middle of the hallway after all. But those touches felt lighter than feathers under the intensity of Yixing’s gaze and the invasive softness of his voice. Even more than that, the words he was saying were being processed by Junmyeon’s mind one by one; connecting them, finding sense only to light up with new ideas, new concepts, new ways of understanding and unpopular, yet fascinating points of view. Yixing could have been someone that opened new paths through the simplest gestures. There was something about how he coined his speeches that made him seem like he was speaking a completely different language, one only for Junmyeon to understand. And it was more than wonderful. More than amazing, more than captivating. There might not even be a word to describe such a high. Yixing should come up with a word; after all, he is a writer for a reason.

Either it was the bodies continuously shoving against him, or the heavily filled, sickening sweet emotions the man was giving him; Junmyeon’s body leaned a couple of inches closer. He did not even notice it, not until Yixing, surprisingly, mirrored him. His body also leaned close and their dress shirts were already brushing against one another. The fumbling of thin fabric was completely inaudible, for Junmyeon’s mind was racing, spinning, flashing; it was doing everything but staying still. There was a trembling in his chest, but the kind of trembling that resulted in warm shivers down his spine, causing him to slow down his breathing. The muscles in his limbs were contracting in the most relaxing way possible, his lips were starting to part for anything but air. His ears stopped picking up sounds but it was fine, his mind was already making all the noise he needed anyway. His craving was torturing him in a pleasing way and Yixing was no different. By the way he was mirroring the editor’s expression, it was as clear as day, that his own body was falling into a sentimental turmoil he could never even dare to escape. He may have had a talent in writing cryptic stories and characters, but to Junmyeon, he was very much like an open book; no detail was overlooked and each of those details was linked together with a meaning, an interpretation. Only a volunteer from the opera house knew how much they stood there staring at one another. She approached them both, informing that the ballet was about to start and ushered them to their seats in the very small, dark, but very private booth.

The moment might have been cut short but the emotions were far from over. Unfulfilled desire had Junmyeon’s body remain stiff in his seat, his arms just loosely crossing in front of him and his legs did the same right after, taking up a borderline awkward position. Yixing’s pose was not any more relaxed than the other man’s, but he did manage to pull himself together enough to take one glance at the editor and show a serene smile. Both of their gazes shifted to the stage as soon as the music began playing.

It was not difficult to get lost in the music. Just like it happened every single time he went to the theatre, the atmosphere made his muscles loosen and relax, only for his soul to suddenly jolt up from the effective music. It was a lovely feeling, just like Yixing described it, a roller coaster ride. And that ride, at least, did not have him feeling sick at the end; only relieved, fulfilled, energized. The dancing that was happening on the stage was captivating, to say the least. The dancers moved with such grace and elegancy, each hand movement seemed as light as the brush of a quill and legs looked completely weightless each time the shoes made contact with the wood. Junmyeon could feel himself get sucked into a world so tragically beautiful and beautifully tragic, he never wanted to leave. More so, because he was experiencing that place with Yixing by his side.

He soon realized he was not only seeing touches, but he was also feeling them. The music that was playing its rhythm not only in his ears but also on his knee. A quick, much hesitant glance off from the stage and Junmyeon saw how Yixing’s slim fingers were drumming against his knee, to the rhythm of the piece that was currently playing. He pressed the tips of his fingers harder once a louder sound came then brushed them gently when a soft tune returned. Those simple touches were enough to bring Junmyeon back to the passionate turmoil he experienced in the hallway minutes ago. A turmoil which only increased once Yixing’s hand went up further, his palm pressing on the area right above his knee. His hand was warm, instantly making the small patch of skin underneath the fabric heat up. The heat only increased when his thumb brushed back and forth over his knee, causing Junmyeon to be completely laid back in his seat by now. It was impossible to breathe normally and his lips parted for a better grasp of air, but that did not happen because of his teeth pushing in his lower lip. For a few seconds, he debated between what was more important, breathing or staying silent; but he did not have an opportunity to reach a final answer, for Yixing’s fingers, once again, sneaked up over his thigh. The man did not grope or rub that unbelievably intimate part of his body, all he did was tap, brush and drum his fingertips, closely following the rhythm of the music. Junmyeon could have sworn that his heartbeats as well adjusted to the music, or more logically, Yixing’s touches. His lungs were completely filled with air once, only to let it out in small, frantic huffs, whenever Yixing’s fingers moved up. Once they were pressed down again, he swallowed, in an attempt to get rid of the dryness in his throat. The atmosphere began pressing on his chest, growing more and more suffocating by the minute and he had to reach the conclusion that the only person that can relieve him is the one frustrating him at the moment. He was going to gather all the strength he had left and ignore, for the sake of his unhealthily fast heartbeats, but Yixing’s palm swiftly placing on his thigh and staying there for more than a couple of seconds was his breaking point.

There was a hint of desperation and helplessness, mixed with undeniable anticipation in his voice when he called the author’s name; which Yixing easily picked up. How did he get from his chair to the wall in the hallway is still a blur. The only time his mind managed to pick up some sort of sense was when their lips were pressed against one another. That sense did not last long either, for the kiss was the peak of Junmyeon’s high, ending up sending him in a full state of ecstasy.

‘Beautiful. So, so beautiful.’

Yixing was not in a better state at all. His arms around Junmyeon’s frame were tight, but secure rather than crushing. He had Junmyeon pressed against him for a warmth that was fueled by the rumbling of emotions in his chest. He held him protectively and with care, for the editor was the most precious piece of fine jewelry he could ever lay his hands on. He was beautiful in and out; his soul mirrored an experience only people much older than them both could have. His mind showed an intelligence one could only acquire after many challenging experiences. Junmyeon was both physically and emotionally strong but still so incredibly fragile at the same time, Yixing never wanted to let him and get himself broken. He wanted to treat him the best way possible; he wanted to be present and protect him, but without growing controlling and allowing him to have his personal space. He wanted to gift him and provide him with everything a human being could want, not just material things, but most importantly, emotional ones. He knew sadness was inevitable and that it would be impossible to have Junmyeon happy at all times, no matter how much he wished and strived so he could; so he wanted his hands to hold the other’s during darkest times. The bond was forming, and it was forming at a dangerous speed with incomprehensible strength. 

He wanted to tell it to Junmyeon, but it was impossible when their lips were connected so aggressively yet so gently, moving so frantically but still managing to enjoy each other’s sweetness.

That, however, was okay.

He was going to write it down instead later.


End file.
